


I mute the slight inner voices, pleading in a continuous low murmur [English Version]

by saphique



Category: The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (Movies)
Genre: Being in the closet for too long, Coming Out, Coming to terms with her lesbianism, Divorce, F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 02:34:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphique/pseuds/saphique
Summary: This deeply rooted self-loathing transforms me into a black hole with an eternal appetite, wanting to destroy all light at any price. By refusing any attempt at happiness, I mute the slight inner voices, pleading in a continuous low murmur. This desire to love women, to consider myself as I am, a lesbian.





	I mute the slight inner voices, pleading in a continuous low murmur [English Version]

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [je rends muette la petite voix intérieure qui hurle tout bas. [French Version]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177991) by [saphique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saphique/pseuds/saphique). 



> There surely is a reason why Jean Ainslie is deeply angry all the time. I thought it could be internalized homophobia and self-hatred.

What a fool I am. Humiliated, abandoned in the heart of a country too colorful, too ancient, too far from anything familiar.

Sitting on a deck chair, alone in a peaceful garden, with a book resting on my lap to give the impression that I might be distracted, I pretend to be contemplating the floral landscape when in fact I am on the edge of the precipice. An existential crisis, a break-down. While all my companions enjoy the wonders of India, I repudiate the climate, the dirt and the poverty. As well as pigeons and cockroaches.

Since always, I've been denying myself that longing I am in search of. When will I finally decide to simply give in?

The refusal of what my body as well as my heart beg for makes me so bitter, so ill-fated. Why repel happiness in such a manner, the one that warms so easily the heart of my husband and others? That happiness Douglas finds in the smallest things. These things that I smother, that I seem to enjoy to suffocate. I am the bucket of cold water thrown on blaze that we do not necessarily want to extinguish. In a sneaky way, I take advantage of the cheerfulness of people to deconstruct their plans, destroy every hope and crumble them, until there remains only a wound, a perpetual discouragement.

This deeply rooted self-loathing transforms me into a black hole with an eternal appetite, wanting to destroy all light at any price. By refusing any attempt at happiness, I mute the slight inner voices, pleading in a continuous low murmur. This desire to love women, to consider myself as I am, a lesbian.

Why hope to find elsewhere, futilely, what I can not even offer? Oh, when am I going to allow myself a glimpse of this gift that would be so easily accepted if only…if only I confess what I dread, my amorous hopes ...

I invent myself infatuation towards men that I feed in fiction, that I externalize at the least opportunity.

I live in denial, in exaggeration, in dramatization and above all, in material comfort, this easy escapade. Concealed behind superficiality, I repress my inclinations. This is a vicious circle. If I do not put an end to it, this black hole in me will eventually engulf me completely.

Around us is a carnival of color, festive drums, confetti's and spice powders. It is time. This is where I make my decision. The divorce. My husband is too generous to break it off with such a malevolent woman. Douglas must be suspicious of the immense abhorrence I undergo towards myself and he must wish to spare me an additional sorrow.

My husband would never have had the strength to admit that our wedding is over. Its death has been announced on the day of our marriage.

We lived by convenience, by facility. Incompatibility of character would never be enough to describe our daily life. He lights a joy, I spit on the flame. As long as he is able to experience his heterosexuality with me, I can not imagine for one moment to live my lesbianism.

Tears of liberation and melancholy reach my eyes as I explain to him that his kindness and his sense of loyalty prevented him from confessing that everything is over between us. He recognizes it, and this simple acquiescence breaks his heart, because in reality, he is a good person. Douglas has been waiting for this moment from the beginning and I give him this gift. I do not feel the strength to return the favor for myself, obtain the gift that I want most. For the moment, this will suffice.

Then I cry and I smile simultaneously, unaccustomed to formulate the truth without exaggerating it. I feel serene and melancholy for the first time in my life. Douglas accepts our separation, wishes me happiness, the truest, and above all, he begs me to be honest with myself. Does he know my secret? Did he suspect why I was continually acerbic about existence?

Aboard the bike-taxi, awakened by the sound of the rocks that pass under the wheels and cradled by the tired breathing of my driver, I reach the airport. I go back home, I reach for novelties, leaving behind the old woman I was. Finally, I am ready to live my life, the real one.


End file.
